


Under the Cover

by Enigel



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-01
Updated: 2008-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigel/pseuds/Enigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don wants, Colby hesitates - for a while. (Spoilers up to and including the first half of season 4.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Cover

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kiscico in the Numb3rs_Newyear 2008 ficathon.

Dammit, Eppes, you should know better than to try and start something with a co-worker, _again_, because that always ended well. A male co-worker, no less. But there was something about the curve of Granger's back and the quirk of his lips when he grinned, so Don found himself asking Granger - Colby - if he didn't want to grab a beer with him.

But Granger made it easier for him. After what looked like a moment of hesitation - was he trying to decipher the signals? had Don maybe been too obvious? not obvious enough? - a sidewise look, a head-shake.

"I promised David I'd see that match with him. But if you'd like to join us, boss...?"

Well, it was good that the two got together well. He'd been worried at first, but the partnership seemed to go on nicely now; partners couldn't always be expected to be best friends, but it was good if they at least understood each other. He'd kept a close eye on Granger and Sinclair, because he'd partnered them and it was his job as a leader to make sure his team was well-oiled. They had had a rocky start, but now seemed to get along just fine. Better than fine, if the frequency of the baseball matches, football games and beers was anything to go by. He'd even wondered (because it was his job to notice things) if maybe there wasn't more going on.

But no, wasn't David dating that Angela doc? So David was safe, thought Don. Not that he might have been jealous in any way. Don didn't get attached, so he couldn't get jealous.

And maybe Granger's invitation to join them was meant to underline just that, that it was a friendly gathering. And, Don thought, that he was meant to stay at the same level.

* * *

He caught glances, sometimes. After a tough case, when they were doing the round-up and injury assessment, he noticed Granger looking at him. He'd also find himself checking Granger out - as in, checking that he was okay. Of course. Patting his back after an adrenaline-fueled chase, with the shots still ringing in his ears, was just a way of making his appreciation known.

* * *

Colby and Charlie high-fived each other, and Don couldn't believe that tough guy Granger had really grasped some of Charlie's math gobbledygook, that he and Charlie had actually worked together. He trusted Charlie, but he was Charlie's brother.

They went for pizza and beers after that, and the invitation had been made by Charlie. Colby agreed, looking happy, and then he looked towards Don. Don had that momentary flash of _something_, and if he'd been planning to maybe skip the dinner, now he said "Sure, I'd like to celebrate the triumph of math" and grinned, and glanced at Colby.

* * *

But when he'd invited Colby to his place, a week after that, he saw that hesitation and shadow on Granger's face again, as he said no. There seemed to be regret there too, but hell, Don wasn't Megan, and he didn't have time to analyze this stuff and wonder, and it wasn't like he was mooning over Granger or anything. No was no, regardless why, and two _no_s were a definite _no_ and that was that.

* * *

Except when the business with Carter happened, and Granger withheld information, and the pang of betrayed trust hurt. It really hurt, and Don knew he was overreacting, even if he did a nice job of covering it up with professional reasons. Even Megan was fooled, and Granger was bashful, and Don knew he'd have had to be angry anyway. He had to trust each and every one of his team, so it didn't matter what fueled his anger more, just the results.

He'd felt like slamming Colby into a wall and shaking him, but he didn't trust himself to do it. He was past the point where he could tell himself that it was well-justified professional ire.

* * *

As they slammed the cuffs on the traitorous bastard, he was very glad about those rejections. At least he'd had the common sense to not try and extract information out of him like that. He felt like punching Granger and shouting his throat raw at him, but the whole team was shaken, and David's fury was dangerous and explosive, so he had to be the calm and rational one. We don't lynch spies in the FBI's offices. (No matter how much we'd want to shake them and bruise them and... No.) If calm is when your blood is boiling and your jaw hurts from clenching it.

* * *

Thinking back on it, Charlie had been the most rational of them, by choosing to think with his heart. Larry had quoted some obscure European writer at him about that, and more words had been bandied back and forth, and at the end of the day it left them just as shaken as before, with a broken team and an agent in intensive recovery.

He'd never liked "spy stuff". He hated the idea of someone assigned to keep an eye on him. He was doing his job, and he was doing it as best as he could, which was pretty damn good. Then again, of course he liked the idea of someone selling state secrets even less, and sure, such guys had to be caught, and cloak and dagger tactics had to be used.

He'd told all that to Granger - Colby - although he wasn't sure there was any point. But the doctor assured him that the spirit, if not the actual words, have a chance to make it to the unconscious person's mind, so Don twisted his FBI cap in his hands and told Colby in a low voice about the case, about clearing up his name, about Charlie's trust metric and his more trusty heart.

* * *

And then Colby was awake, and the first unguarded look showed him the yearning, the hunger.

"Hey, Don."

His voice was raw and low and tired, and the greatest thing Don had heard in a long while. He let out a breath he didn't notice he'd been holding.

"Hey, Mata Hari."

"She was a chick, Eppes."

"Yeah, but a sexy one," Don grinned, for the first time in many weeks.

"And no one really knew whom she was working for," Colby said, in a quieter voice, still modulated to sound like they were bantering, like it was that easy.

"Well, there's no doubt about you now, 007. All of that's settled now," Don said and briefly touched his hand, something he hadn't dared to do while Colby was unconscious. Colby's hand squeezed his lightly, just an acknowledgment. Maybe it was that easy, two professionals who'd had to do what they had to do.

No, of course it wasn't, but there were two possible explanations for Colby's rejection now. This opened two paths, two branches, like Charlie's trees that weren't actual trees but possibilities. Choices and chances.

* * *

"Don't you think you're taking this super-agent thing too far?" Don asked after the umpteenth time Colby jumped off a building, took a dive or jumped in front of a hail of bullets.

Granger shook his head and grinned in that insufferable manner that Don didn't need Megan to tell him it was meant to hide something, insecurities, survivor's guilt, whatever it was.

"Another day on the job, Don."

Don's jaw was aching from all the chewing gum. He was on the second package, and it was barely Wednesday.

"You're taking too many chances, man. You're not invincible."

"It's not about that," Colby frowned.

"What is it about, then?"

Colby didn't respond, but _looked_ at him and Don almost swallowed his gum in his haste to respond.

"You... man, you've proved yourself ten times over. You've got nothing to prove, Colby."

Somehow he'd ended up gripping Colby's shoulder, and staring back at him from way too close. Was it too close in his personal space? Was it close enough to make his point?

After a moment, he could see Colby's frown lines easing up, and a tentative smile that was nothing like the grin from before, and an underlying twinkle of yearning.

"You still offering that beer, boss?"

* * *

They'd barely made it past Don's apartment's door.

"Truth is, I don't really care much for beer right now," Don whispered, "but if you want..."

A kiss was Colby's answer, and then they were bumping into walls, stumbling over furniture and strewing ripped buttons and rumpled clothes in Don's hallway.

Don didn't know how they made it into the bedroom, because he was fumbling with Colby's pants, and his own jeans were being wrestled away.

He'd had no idea that Colby would be so sensual, so tactile, but he imagined he might be starved for being touched himself, so he licked his tanned chest and mapped the hard planes of his body, the smooth skin and the scars, and listened to his pulse quickening as he licked Colby's neck and stroked both their members together.

Colby was moaning Don's name into his ear, now caressing Don's back, then driving his fingers deep into Don's muscles, now gripping his ass to press Don closer, then pressing quick kisses along Don's collarbone. Sweat made their bodies glide together in the breath-taking rhythm Colby had set and Don willingly followed, and it didn't take long until Colby came. Don wanted to last longer, but Colby gripped him just so and kissed him deeply, running his free hand through Don's hair, and Don let go, let himself be pushed over the edge and spilled himself between their hands.

They lay back, catching their breath. Don felt exhausted, from more than the physical exertion, like he'd just run the marathon while dodging bullets. He'd worried - if it would be good, if _they_'d be good, two people with more baggage than a cargo jet between them. He was grateful they were at his place, so he wouldn't have to decide on the whole "sleeping over" thing this time, and he stole a glance at Colby to see his answer.

Colby caught his look.

"Sorry, Don," he said, and his grin was back, "it's been a while. Next time you'll have to work for it."

"Next time?" Don asked, trying to disguise his hopefulness under the mask of teasing.

"Mhm. You just wait until I've had a good night's sleep."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," Colby said resolutely, burrowing his head in Don's pillow.

Don snuggled close and drew the covers over both of them.

"Good answer," he whispered, softly enough to make it seem like the night itself had said it.


End file.
